


Peter and the Wolf

by Ernmark (M_Moonshade)



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: M/M, Werewolf AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-10-31 22:51:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10909101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_Moonshade/pseuds/Ernmark
Summary: In which Juno Steel is a werewolf, and Peter Nureyev gets the puppy he never knew he wanted





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> readerofmuch asked:  
> Juno Steele, closet werewolf?

The bomb goes off. Peter can hear it, just like he can hear Miasma screaming as it tore her apart. Just like he can still hear Juno, shrieking and howling.

But at some point Juno’s voice cuts out, replaced by a different kind of howling. It sounds inhuman– in fact, it sounds animal.

“Juno!” He slams his fist at the door, and this time the sound is unmistakable. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the door was separating him from some kind of corporate guard dog. But that can’t be right.

The door unlocks, and there’s a sound like a pained yelp. By the time the door opens completely, Peter only catches a glimpse of a large black shape darting behind the shelves at the far end of the room. Juno and Miasma are nowhere to be seen.

He’s seen Miasma dispose of her victims without a trace, and he’s seen her move so quickly and quietly that she might as well have become invisible. For all he knows, she’s murdered Juno and hidden in the shadows again– but Peter’s instincts tell him otherwise. It doesn’t match up– particularly not with the bloodstains on the floor. 

Some of them Peter recognizes: the splatter as Miasma’s tentacles sliced into flesh, the sudden splash as Juno’s eye was destroyed, the heavy drip as he grabbed Peter and the two of them ran for the door. More blood smears the wall where Juno had leaned against it, guarding the control panel from Miasma until the end. 

Another violent splash of blood, and then… paw prints. Those are very decisively paws. On the floor, on the wall– even one on the control panel, likely opened by accident while the dog jumped at the door.

But that doesn’t make sense. Miasma was no more affectionate toward animals than she was toward humans; he can’t picture her owning a pet, let alone saving it in her bunker for her one-woman apocalypse. It couldn’t possibly have gotten here on its own– the Martian desert is cold, radioactive, and utterly unforgiving. No animal could have survived long enough to wander this far out into the middle of nowhere. 

A test subject, maybe? Or perhaps it belonged to one of her masked assistants?

He examines the ground again. Juno’s footprints stop at the panel. Miasma’s remains have vanished entirely, leaving behind only an odd dampness on the stone floor. The only footprints that go anywhere belonged to the dog. 

“Juno?” he says again, creeping deeper into the chamber. The only response is the click of clawed feet against stone, and the shuffle of a box creaking against a shelf. “Juno, are you there?”

It occurres to Peter that if Juno isn’t here, then alerting whatever it is to his presence might get himself killed. He can’t quite bring himself to care.

Another box scrapes against the floor. Something is trying to crawl through the shelf on his left. He crouches low, his hand ready for his knife.

Instead, he only sees the dog. Its fur is black, its muzzle long, and it looks entirely too large to squeeze itself between the storage crates the way it has. It tries to wriggle backward away from him, but its paw is stuck between shelves, and it whimpers as it pulls. 

Ordinarily Peter isn’t particularly good with dogs, but this is difficult to watch. He leans in, reaching for the poor thing’s paw.

As soon as he gets close, it bares its teeth, a low growl ripping from its throat. He yanks his hand back. The dog tries to do the same with its paw, but to no avail. All it accomplishes is rattling the boxes on the highest shelf. 

“Stop that, you,” Peter says, creeping forward again. “If you keep that up, you’re going to wind up buried under a lifetime supply of canned soup.”

The dog growls, but with less enthusiasm this time. 

“Trust me, I know,” Peter continues. “I know what it’s like to be trapped down here, and I don’t like it any more than you do. So why don’t you let me help you– and then you can help me. How does that sound, hm?” 

The dog still bares its teeth, but there’s no bite left behind its bark. It looks like it’s been mistreated: Its ears and tail are drooping, it looks unlawfully thin, and there are recent scars all over its body. It’s even missing an eye.

When Peter takes its paw, it doesn’t lash out. It does, however, pull away the moment it’s free. It doesn’t get far– there aren’t many places left to go, after all. It’s cornered itself in the back of the chamber. 

“That’s a good dog,” Peter says softly, coming closer. “That’s a good boy.” 

It backs up, refusing to look at him. Its tail is low, its ears are flat against its skull, and it keeps looking at him out of the corner of its eye. 

Ordinarily, this is how well-meaning animal lovers find themselves hospitalized. But Peter’s been through too much to let a dog bite frighten him off. 

“Alright, boy. Time to hold up your end of the deal. I need you to help me find Juno. He’s the other person who was here with me. The one who isn’t a monster. Can you do that?” 

The dog cocks its head. Its tail wags, just once. 

“That’s right, boy,” Peter says. “Find Juno.”

But it only continues to stare. 

“Come on, you can do it,” he urges the dog. When it doesn’t respond, he darts back, swiping his hand across the puddle of drying blood on the floor, and he thrusts out his hand to the dog to sniff. “Here. This is his blood. He’s hurt– he may– I need you to help me find him before it’s too late.” 

The dog backs away, whimpering.

“Don’t tell me that,” Peter says, almost in hysterics. “He’s here somewhere, don’t you understand? He’s got to be here, and you have to help me find him. If he dies–” 

Peter’s voice breaks, and he slides to his knees. He can’t breathe. It’s too much. It’s all too much. He’s been clinging to that last desperate hope that Juno might still be alive, but if that’s gone– if Juno’s really dead–

The dog creeps close, licking at the corner of his jaw apologetically.

“Please,” he tells it, burying his face in its scruff. “Please. You have to help me find Juno.” 

* * *

After the tears came a wave of exhaustion– after everything, it was just too much to keep his eyes open anymore.  When Peter wakes up, he’s still nestled against the big dog.

He’s still bone-tired. He probably wouldn’t have woken up at all, except the dog is whining like it’s in pain. Hastily he scrambles off it– both to keep from hurting it more and to avoid being bitten. As soon as it’s free, it bolts, but it doesn’t get far. Only a few rows of shelves in, it stumbles and hits the ground. Maybe its injured paw has swollen, because it looks bigger than it did before. Unnaturally big. Its other limbs seem to stretch and swell, contorting in unnatural shapes. 

Peter can’t even fathom what he’s looking at. All he can do is watch in horror as the dog writhes on the ground, yelping and howling in agony as its bones audibly rearrange themselves under its skin. 

His sudden nausea is at odds with a surreal sense of deja vu. He’s heard those sounds before– especially when they start to change pitch, twisting into very familiar cries of pain. 

“Juno,” he whispers, and somehow he must have been heard under all that screaming, because it turns to stare at him, wide-eyed and pleading, as a long black muzzle melts back into a broad brown nose. 

Juno’s on his hands and knees, his skin beaded with sweat, his whole body trembling from exertion. He looks like he’s going to pass out, but Peter’s at his side in an instant, catching him before he can collapse entirely. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter persuades Juno to let him stay the night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> Fffkshdkdnsn can you do more of the peter and werewolf!juno bc I love all these supernatural headcanons

“You can still back out,” Juno says, and Peter almost takes him up on it.

Juno’s face is gray and drawn as he checks the steel plates lining what used to be a walk-in closet. In the years since he’s moved in here, it’s been refurbished into something more like a panic room, and it shows. The corners of the plates have been wrenched up and hammered back down and welded into place a dozen times over. The metal is gouged by claws and splattered with rust-covered stains. The digital lock looks like something more at home in a bank vault.

It isn’t exactly an encouraging sight, but Peter refuses to let that show on his face. It took him months to persuade Juno to give him this chance; if he balks now, there won’t be another.

The sun is racing toward the skyline. It’s only a matter of time now.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Juno says. He’s almost pleading.

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“We’re taking every precaution.”

“If that was true, you wouldn’t even be here right now.”

‘Every precaution’ includes the blaster holstered at Peter’s waist. The cartridge loaded into the weapon is loaded with stun charges; the ones in his pockets carry a lethal charge. 

Just in case.

They’re disturbingly light in Peter’s pocket, almost negligible. The thing intended to murder his partner should feel heavier, he thinks. It should leave a stain.

But it won’t come to that. He’e only carrying them at all because Juno insisted on it. Peter won’t need them. Any of them.

The alarm on Juno’s comms goes off, and he swallows. Half an hour until moonrise.

“Last chance to change your mind,” he says. 

“It’s going to be fine.”

Juno makes a vague grunt, then reaches for the door. He looks by all rights like he’s on his way to his own execution. It’s that look more than anything else that makes Peter want to call this whole thing off. Instead he reaches out to Juno.

“Thank you,” he says softly. “For letting me try.”

“Yeah.” Juno won’t meet his eyes. “Tell me in the morning.” 

The door shuts between them. 

Peter sits on the floor, his back to the door. He knows there’s nothing he can say right now. Even in his own ears, it all sounds like empty promises and cold comfort. He can’t even tell Juno he loves him without it sounding like goodbye.

The only way this ends well is if they’re both still here come morning. 

So he sits. And he waits. And the moon starts to rise.

Juno’s admitted that he doesn’t remember what happens when Mars’ full moons align, but he’s haunted by a lifetime of mornings after. It’s bad enough when he stays successfully locked into his homemade prison, when the only blood and bites he has to clean up are self-inflicted. He’s told Peter about the worse mornings, when he wakes up to the mangled bodies of rats and rabbits and gangsters who thought that his armored sanctuaries were meant to protect _him_ from the likes of _them_.

He’s considered turning himself in to the police, but that’s even worse. He’s seen the prison system enough times to know they’re not built to contain someone like him. If he’s locked up, there’ll be no saving the people who are trapped inside with him.

Better to stay here, he tells himself. Better to be isolated and alone. It’s safer for everyone.

Listening to him tell it, Peter might just believe that, too, if not for what happened in the Martian tomb. Juno insists that was a fluke– that he was too hurt and exhausted to hurt anyone– but Peter isn’t so sure. He doesn’t know much about animals, but he knows enough that it sounds wrong. Something else is going on. He’s willing to bet his life on it.

Sounds are coming from the other side of the door– muffled grunts and swallowed cries, for now, but they’re getting louder by the second. Peter braces himself as the stifled cries turn into screams, and then animal howls. 

After what feels like an eternity, the transformation is over, but the howls don’t stop. The door shudders against Peter’s back as the creature on the other side throws itself against it, over and over again. Metal squeals as claws scrape at their enclosures. It sounds like Juno’s trying to dig his way out of the room, but to no avail.

Peter could leave him in there. He could walk out now, spend the night in a diner, and come back before morning. He doesn’t have to do this.

He pulls himself to his feet. Takes a deep breath. Enters the code into the digital lock. Pulls it open.

A single shaft of light streams in through the open door, illuminating an enormous black wolf. It hasn’t tried to bolt through the door, though the frantic digging has stopped. The fur on its back stands erect, its ears are flat against its skull, and its tail is low. It backs up another step, deeper into the closet that it was so frantic to escape a few moments before.

“Juno?” Peter says, reaching out. 

The wolf snaps with a sharp bark. Peter doesn’t move his hand, and the wolf’s jaws snap shut in the empty air a few inches from his fingertips. 

He crouches low. “It’s alright, Juno. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

It makes another sound, somewhere between a growl and a whine. A miserable yammer. Peter keeps talking, his tone soft and steady. When his legs start to cramp from too long in his crouch, he sits down, his legs crossed. It’s an indefensible position– if he has to run, it’ll take precious milliseconds to unfold himself and get upright. But he won’t have to run.

Slowly, gingerly, the wolf creeps toward him. It takes almost a half hour before it’s close enough to sniff his outstretched hand.

“There you are, Juno,” Peter murmurs. “That’s a good boy.” 

The wolf whines in reply. 

“That’s right, Juno. You’re not going to hurt me, are you?” He reaches out slowly, letting his fingertips trail over the wolf’s head, and it leans into the touch.

The wolf creeps closer to lick his face, its tail starting to wag. 

* * *

When Juno comes to, the first sensation is of his heart racing– first from pain, then from horror. 

Sunlight fills the room around him. He’s not in his panic room. He’s out.

Oh God, _Peter_.

He wants to run, but he’s frozen in place. He doesn’t want to look. He doesn’t want to know what he’ll find.

A locked door, maybe. Evidence of a quick escape. A text, if he’s lucky, telling him goodbye.

Or worse: a corpse.

This was a mistake. He should never have let Peter talk him into this. He knew better, dammit, this was wrong, it was wrong, and he’ll never forgive himself if–

He stumbles backward and feels a sudden wetness on his foot. Slowly, tentatively, he lets himself look down.

It’s a… mixing bowl full of water– or at least, it was full before he knocked it over. On the floor beside it is a plate, though there’s no telling what used to be on it.

Footsteps trudge in from the bedroom.  Juno whirls around.

“Good morning, love.” There’s Peter, still in yesterday’s clothes, though now heavily wrinkled and with a thick layer of wolf hair clinging to the light fabric. His own hair is disheveled, and his eyes are bleary as he fights off a yawn. “Are you hungry?” 

He’s absolutely famished, but that doesn’t matter right now. 

“Are you alright?” It comes out all in a rush. “Did I hurt you?”

Peter flashes a sleepy smile. “You may have stepped on me once or twice, but nothing permanent.”

He digs his comms out of his pocket and opens an application, handing it to Juno.

It’s his photo gallery. The first is a selfie, taken at an unflattering angle. Peter’s face is half out of the frame. The rest of his face is mostly obscured by the face and tongue of a big black wolf. There’s another picture after it– the same wolf on its back, its paws folded over its chest, its mouth open in a wide grin as Peter’s hand pets its belly. 

There are dozens more just like it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter gets Juno a present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ingridlake asked:  
> Any possibility of more of werewolf Juno being a good boy? I love that Peter took pictures of him, that was so sweet

“Peter…” Juno said very slowly. It was the kind of tone that you didn’t want to hear from a lady who was that good with a gun. “What’s this?”

Peter, though, was not one to be intimidated. “It looks like a shopping bag.”

Snake-fast, Juno’s hand darted into the bag and dragged out a synth-leather collar. “What the hell is this, Nureyev? I swear to God, if you’re trying to be cute–”

“Really, Juno. Do I even need to try?” Peter turned off the tablet he was reading and set it on the table beside him. “I just thought I’d take you for a little walk next week.”

Juno’s words said “Peter”. His tone said ‘I love you, but I may have to murder you.’ “I am not a dog. I am a _werewolf_. You can’t just take me _outside_ into the _city_ where _people_ are, because _I might kill somebody_.”

“So far the bigger issue has been you running into traffic, actually.” He crossed one leg over the other, entirely unperturbed by the look of growing horror on Juno’s face as he continued. “I’m sure you must have realized by now, but the ability to use flush toilets doesn’t exactly carry over when you don a fur coat, so to speak.”

“Oh God–” 

“I tried to improvise with one of your belts, but you managed to slip out and made a break for it.”

“Wait, is that what happened to that belt–”

“If I’m going to be making a habit of this, I’d rather be properly prepared. Also, dog biscuits were on sale.” 

Juno flopped onto the couch with an aggravated sigh. There really was no winning this for him, and they both knew it.

“Dammit, Peter. If I hurt someone…”

Peter leaned closer to him, gently running his nails over Juno’s scalp. Juno didn’t like to admit it, but it felt really, really nice.

“You aren’t some bloodthirsty killer on your nights off,” Peter said softly. “You’re just a dog. A particularly large dog, but no more ferocious than any other that I’ve seen. One that gets anxious when locked in a small dark room for hours on end. Or that might fight back if he’s cornered by a pack of murderous gangsters.” 

“You don’t know that,” Juno muttered, but he leaned in closer against Peter. “Not for sure.”

“Maybe not,” Peter admitted. “But I’ll put my faith in that until I’m proven wrong.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we take a moment to appreciate the past

Juno wakes up, as always, in the dark– a basement, judging by the cool of it. Thin, irregular shafts of light seep through the windows where they were hastily boarded up.

He remembers now: he was with Mick and Sasha when he felt the change coming on. He doesn’t remember much after that, but it looks like they were able to stuff him into the basement of an abandoned building before he hurt anybody.

Tentatively he tries the door. Locked. He knocks at it– hoping to God they didn’t get pulled away or decided to leave him here.

He’s answered by another knock, echoing his own. A moment later the door unlatches. When it swings open, Mick’s on the other side.

“Don’t worry, Jay. We weren’t gonna leave you down here forever.”

* * *

It must be so much easier on Earth, what with their one moon that’s only full every twenty-eight days or so. He has to deal with two moons that run on two different cycles, and trying to keep up with both their cycles is an exercise in frustration. Sometimes he goes all snarly-and-furry (as Mick likes to call it) months apart; sometimes the events are only separated by a few weeks. Most days he gets caught by surprise.

It’s okay when he’s with Mick and Sasha– usually they can lock him into an abandoned building and keep watch until morning, the two of them taking shifts so they both get a bit of sleep at night.

It’s worse when he’s alone. With nobody to lock the doors and bar the windows, he doesn’t have much of a choice but to dive down a storm drain. It’s a good enough trap– he’s effectively stuck in the sewers until he has hands to climb out with, at least. Humans don’t often go down there, and the rabbits mostly have the sense to keep their distance from hungry werewolves.

Mostly.

The exceptions still haunt his nightmares.

* * *

“Ta-da!” Mick waves his hands like he’s presenting something amazing, and not just downloading a homebrew app onto Juno’s comms. “I was gonna save it for your birthday, but I figured you wouldn’t wanna wait.”

Juno would raise an eyebrow, but the black eye makes it hard to be very expressive right now. “What is this?”

“It’s the brand new Martian Calendar!” There’s that tone again, like he’s building up his own drumroll. It falls flat. “You don’t get it. That’s cool– It’s super advanced, I know. “ He leans in. “See, cuz it doesn’t make any sense to use the Earth calendar. I mean, their year is only twelve months long. And what the heck is Febrooary anyway? And why is it so much shorter than the others? It doesn’t make any sense– unlike this one!” 

God, he’s gloating. 

“It makes a lot more sense, see? The days are just regular sol days, you know, as you do. The years are actual rotations around the sun, so they’re the full six hundred eighty seven days long, because that makes so much more sense. The months– see? I gave ‘em real common-sense names. Firstmonth, Secondmonth, Thirdmonth– those are based on the cycles of Deimos. So Firstmonth begins and ends on the full moon.”

Slowly realization dawns on Juno. It can’t be. It can’t.

“The weeks, though, those are based on Phobos’ cycles. I call the one with the full moon Monday. Get it?”

Oh God. 

It is.

“So every time the first of the month falls on a Monday…”

There must be something wrong with the app, or with his swollen eye, because it’s suddenly hard to see. Juno’s knees feel wobbly as he clutches his comms. 

There they are: his cycles, spelled out in plain Martian. 

No more getting caught by surprise. No more having to run to the sewers while his bones are rearranging themselves. No more waking up to dead rabbits.

For once in his life, he can actually plan for this shit instead of getting completely blindsided. 

Mick is leaning dangerously close. “So do you like it, Jay?”

It takes Juno a moment of silent nodding before he trusts his voice not to break. “Yeah. It’s… it’s pretty great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Having actually looked up the phases of Phobos and Deimos, none of this actually works (seriously, their full cycles last 7.5 and 33 hours. So we’re going to pretend that Mars has larger, more earth-like moons, to spare poor Juno from wolfing out every two days, because that’s exhausting.))


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter takes Juno for a walk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> what do juno's neighbors think about the giant black dog that they only see at the full moon? that can't be easy to hide.

It seems like every full moon is a little bit easier. Now that Juno-the-wolf knows Peter will be around to let him out, he’s stopped hurling himself against the walls of the armored closet; instead, he waits by the door and whines. As soon as the door’s open, he bursts out, jumping onto Peter’s shoulders and licking his face while his wagging tail thumps against the door frame. 

From what Peter can tell, the transformation takes a lot out of Juno– no matter how much he eats beforehand, his four-legged self is always famished when he comes out, scarfing down as much kibble and water as Peter will let him, and he’s always just as hungry again in the morning. 

Maybe that’s why werewolves are supposed to be so aggressive– anything would be, if it felt like it was starving half to death. He keeps that detail to himself, though. There’s no need to give Juno more to fret about, especially when he can handle the issue himself with a trip to the pet store every few months. 

His habit of gnawing on things is easily remedied, too: all it takes is a few sufficiently sturdy puzzle toys to stave off the boredom. Or, more often now, Juno will dig the collar out of its drawer on his own and bring it to Peter between his teeth. 

There’s not much hope of actually leading him when they go on the walks– Juno’s fairly strong as a human, and he’s even more so when he can dig in with all four paws. Peter’s tugging on the collar is really more of a suggestion than anything else, but at least he can shepherd Juno away from the freeway. At least there aren’t many cars out at four in the morning; there aren’t many people out at this hour, either, and the ones who are know to keep their distance from the man who’s being dragged around town by a giant dog.

Most of them, anyway.

“Peter?” says a high, reedy voice. A second one joins it:

“Oh, it is you. Hello, Peter!” 

He turns. There are the two little old ladies who run the bakery in Juno’s office building. It’s a bit late for a stroll, but he knows how late their little political meetings can run. 

“Hello there, Mrs. Pataki. And Mrs. Pataki. A pleasure to see you both, as always.” It sounds a little less suave than normal; the smell of fresh bread clings to the couple, and Juno’s snuffling eagerly at them in search of hidden food.

“Oh, who’s this?” says one of them– Haruka, if he remembers correctly. “Such a pretty dog. Look at you, what a darling.”

“Peter, dear,” says the other– Imani. “I didn’t know you and Juno got a dog.”

“He’s my sister’s actually.” The lie slips out easily, long since prepared. “We’re watching him for her while she’s out of town. He gets restless when he’s left alone for too long.”

“That’s so sweet of you,” says Imani. “Your sister is lucky to have you.”

“Can I pet him?” asks her wife. Peter doesn’t exactly have the chance to reply before Juno’s pushing his head against her hand. “What’s his name?”

“Dahlia.” 

“A lovely name for a lovely dog.” Both women are eagerly petting him now, and Juno’s languishing in the attention. He even rolls over, and they reward his cuteness with a belly rub. 

Haruka glances up. “What kind is he? Do you know?”

Peter isn’t about to tell them he’s a wolf, so he gives the only answer that matters. “He’s a good boy.” 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rita and Peter have a confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> Why do mrs. and mrs. Pataki know Peter's name?
> 
> This one was written after the previous chapter, but chronologically comes before it.

Juno isn’t here. That should have been the first clue that something was very wrong, but Peter didn’t take it. 

“Mornin’, Agent Glass. Juno isn’t here right now.” 

The second clue is that Rita seemed to know he’d be asking about Juno before he asked about him. 

The third is that oddly low, gravelly pitch to her voice, though Peter’s too polite to ask.

“Is he alright?”

“Oh, he’s fine. He went back home to get his hat, and then he had some trouble with the locks. Don’t worry, though. I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.”

What finally clinches it, though, is the fact that Juno’s supposedly missing hat is drawn low over her brows in Juno’s patented gumshoe style.

“Will he now?” 

“Sure,” Rita drawls. “After you and I have had a little talk.”

Instinct tells Peter to disappear. This is why he doesn’t make regular plans: it’s too easy for someone to learn them and then use them against you. But he _liked_ having these lunch dates with Juno, damn it all, and besides, it’s only Rita. She can’t be a real threat, can she?

“It seems my schedule is suddenly clear,” Peter says, trying not to sound as tense as he feels. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Let’s start with how your name ain’t really Rex Glass.” She leans forward, her fingers steepled in front of her. “Sure, the higher ups think it is. They think you were on all these jobs going back years and years, all sorts of assignments. But I checked those assignments. And the case files were all edited on the same day, you know that? Every single one of ‘em. And it just happened to be the night Croesus Kanagawa was murdered. Ain’t that funny?”

Peter’s in no mood to humor her anymore. There’s a pit in his stomach. This was no quick breach– that’s an intensive, invasive search. She had to sift through the files’ metadata. “ _You_ hacked Dark Matters?” 

“During a commercial break,” she says, which should not sound nearly as menacing as it does. “I want to know who you really are, _Agent Glass_ , and you’re gonna tell me. And you’re gonna tell me the truth, because if you lie to me, you can bet I’m gonna find out.” 

“What do you want?” Peter asks quietly.

“I just told you.” 

“A means to an end,” Peter says. “What is it you’re really after? Who are you working for?”

“You know who I’m workin’ for, and I know you’ve been lyin’ to him. Mista Steel’s been through too much for someone like you to go breakin’ his heart. I ain’t lettin’ you hurt him again, you hear me?” 

She’s doing it to protect Juno. Peter isn’t sure whether that makes it better or worse. Engstrom would have used Peter’s name as blackmail– he was a man who bartered in secrets, and that one was too valuable to spend carelessly. Rita has no such compunctions. She could absolutely destroy Peter– and she might just do that, if it means protecting Juno.

“Juno knows who I am,” he says carefully. 

“I’m sure he thinks he does,” she says. “But he likes you, and he don’t want to go digging in things that’ll make him stop liking you. And I think you already know that.”

Peter swallows. He does. 

He has two options: either silence Rita permanently, or leave now and hope she forgets about him once he stops being a threat to her boss.

Either one will mean losing Juno, perhaps forever. 

He thought he lost Juno once. He won’t let that happen again.

So he makes a choice.

He takes the seat across the desk from Rita, and he talks to Rita in the only language he’s sure she’ll understand. 

“Then let me tell you a story.”

He unpacks it all, beginning to end: the years on the streets, the tyranny of New Kinshasa, finding Mag, the story of a father who never existed, the choice he made, the life on the run. It’s the first time he’s told anyone the story– the first time he even said Mag’s name aloud since the day he died– but he uses the pain of the telling. He takes his greatest weakness and hammers it into armor, takes his shame to cast himself as a hero and victim. 

As much as Rita tries not to let her reactions show on her face, there are unshed tears in her eyes when he finishes his story.

“I’m gonna fact-check all this, you know,” she says, her voice a little thicker than it was before. 

“I would expect nothing less,” he says. “But while you do, would you mind letting Juno out of his apartment? We’re two hours late for our date.”

* * *

Fact-check she does. Four days later, Peter walks into the office to Rita showing Juno an old security feed from Brahma, from when Peter was ten and unbearably twiggy. 

The concept of one’s boyfriend being exposed to embarrassing childhood photos isn’t a completely alien concept to Peter– he just never thought it would happen to _him_.

* * *

It isn’t that Rita can’t keep a secret– after all, Peter had no idea that Juno was a werewolf until he found out the hard way. She doesn’t mention Peter’s past again, aside from one detail:

She keeps calling him by name. It slips out every once in a while, when she’s doing the impossible on her computer while juggling the plots of her favorite shows– just a quick “and tell Peter– I mean, Rex– darn it–” 

Always Peter. Never Nureyev. That’s something, at least. But it still leaves him more vulnerable than he would like. Already the neighbors are asking about that “nice young man” who’s been coming by the office so much lately. Rita’s been getting by just calling him “the boss’s new main squeeze”, but that can’t go on forever. They’re asking for a name. And they’ll start asking questions if Rita starts calling him by the wrong one.

It’s decided in a group meeting, huddled around the front desk of Juno’s office. Agent Rex Glass of Dark Matters is in a relationship with Juno– totally forbidden by Dark Matters policy, since Juno’s an outsider to the organization– and to keep it quiet, he’s going by an alias: Peter Flint, average civilian and sometimes consultant who knows a thing or two about art and history. It’s dramatic enough to stick in Rita’s head, and even if she messes up on the details, she can easily blame it on Peter’s secret identity.

Mrs. Pataki down the hall is the first one to hear the slip up, and so she’s the first person to hear about Juno and Peter’s forbidden love.

Rita hasn’t actually said anything to Juno or Peter about it, but it’s fairly obvious in the way she keeps giggling and blushing when she sees the two of them leaving together. 

Juno sighs, but Peter won’t deny he enjoys it. It’s nice having other people in on his secrets for a change.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Juno is protective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wastrelwoods asked:  
> since it seems like ur on a roll with this au i really wanna see werewolf juno being protective of peter. please?

Maybe this was to be expected.

Butcher’s Head isn’t exactly a good neighborhood to be caught in at three in the morning, but this is the route Juno decided to take tonight, and so this is the route Peter lets himself be dragged down. It isn’t as if he hasn’t encountered more dangerous things than a back alley in Hyperion City, after all. A mad xenoanthropologist comes to mind, among others.

The sidewalks are crumbling and pitted with potholes, and the layer of litter and lack of functioning street lights makes it particularly difficult to judge safe places to put his feet. He has to take short, measured strides to avoid twisting his ankle; it’s even more difficult with Juno pulling at the leash. He stops every few minutes to snuffle at dumpsters and street corners, and Peter would rather not know what exactly those smells are telling him. 

The city is particularly dark on this corner; the streetlights are out for a few blocks in either direction, and even the enormous billboards have been dismantled for scraps. It’s exactly the kind of place that Peter used to lurk when he was a child: there are a thousand nooks and crannies where someone can hide, completely invisible to an outsider. 

It also happens to be perfect for staging an ambush.

The leash goes slack. Peter can’t see Juno– the werewolf’s dark fur blends almost seamlessly into the shadows– but he can practically feel the tension rolling off him. 

Peter takes the cue without argument and slips his hand into one of his many pockets. He can’t see well enough to reliably aim a blaster, but no matter. He’d much rather use a knife anyway.

Three things happen simultaneously: Peter’s hand closes around the box cutter in his jacket pocket, something sharp presses into the small of his back, and a sound like the engine of a poorly maintained piece of construction equipment emanates from Juno’s throat. It doesn’t sound like the kind of sound a living organism could actually make– maybe that’s why the the mugger doesn’t take notice.

“You came into the wrong neighborhood,” they say.

“Did I?” Peter asks lightly. “I must have made a wrong turn somewhere. My mistake.”

“Hell yeah, it’s a mistake.” The knife digs harder into his back. Any more, and it’ll start cutting stitches.

“I’ll just be on my way then, shall I?”

“Sure you will. As soon as you pay the toll.”

“Come now,” Peter says. “Do you really think I’d have my wallet on me at this hour? That’s just begging for trouble.” 

“That’s fine by me.” For half an instant the knife leaves his back, only to find a more comfortable home at his throat. “I’m sure your friends can pay for you. Ain’t that right?” 

It sounds like an old-fashioned jet engine is inching closer. 

“Ah. Yes. That sounds like an excellent idea. Allow me to comms them, and they can–” He doesn’t have the chance to pull his knife before the mugger preempts him. 

“Keep your hands where I can see ‘em!” they shout, and the knife in their hand slices into his neck. It’s a shallow wound, purely accidental, but it’s exactly what Peter’s been hoping to avoid.

A relaxed demeanor and calm voice can do wonders for keeping an animal calm in a tense situation, but there’s nothing Peter can do to mask the scent of his blood. 

He grabs the mugger’s arm, forcing the knife away from his throat just as Juno lunges for him. In an instant he’s tackled by all the mass of an adult boxer, concentrated into claws and fur and pure muscle. Peter can’t see Juno’s shape exactly, but he can see moonlight reflected in luminous eyes and bared white fangs.

Peter reaches out, running a hand over the the fur standing on end across Juno’s back. 

“I’m sorry, did you not notice Dahlia? He certainly noticed you. He gets cranky if he isn’t taken for his walk, you see.” Peter speaks with pure composure, but he gets a good grip on the scruff of Juno’s neck. The other hand wraps around Juno’s collar. He’s not strong enough to pull Juno off entirely, but hopefully the hold will at least keep him from lunging. Personally, Peter wouldn’t mind seeing Juno dispose of this man, but Juno would be inconsolable in the morning, and that’s more important than the satisfaction of petty vengeance. “Your knife, if you please.”

The mugger tries to say something, but Juno shifts, his teeth inches from the mugger’s face. 

“ _Your knife_.” 

There’s a clatter and a glint of moonlight at Peter’s feet. He doesn’t dare stoop to pick it up– not when Juno’s so close to ripping this person apart. Instead he kicks it into the ally. If the mugger wants it back, they can find it in the morning.

“We’ll be on our way now. You, though, are going to stay right here. You will not stand up, you will not follow us, and you will not run. If you run, my Dahlia here will chase you, and you will not enjoy where that leads. Have I made myself clear?” 

The mugger whimpers, and Juno replies with a snarl.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Peter says, and gives Juno’s collar a tug. “Come along, Dahlia.” 

Juno resists for half a second, mostly to growl at the mugger one last time, before he follows close at Peter’s side. For a long while Peter doesn’t let go of the collar, keeping the leash wrapped around his arm just in case. By the time they emerge into a well-lit part of the city Juno’s fur lays flat again, and Peter loosens his hold. He only stops for a moment, just long enough to glance over his shoulder and make sure they aren’t being followed, but that’s all the time Juno needs. The wolf rises onto its hind legs, both front paws braced on Peter’s shoulders. Peter just barely has time to close his mouth before a long, flat tongue bathes his face and neck, paying careful attention to the cut at his throat.

“It’s alright,” Peter tells him, when the danger of a dog tongue in his mouth has passed. “They didn’t hurt me. I’m alright.” 

Juno whines in reply; it’s hard to imagine that such a small, tender sound can come from the same place as the growl from before. 

If there’s one bit of solace to all this, it’s that the wound is a small one. Of course he’ll tell Juno the truth if he asks– this is no time to start keeping secrets, after all– but more likely than not, Juno will assume Peter cut himself shaving.

Still, he’d rather avoid a second cut tonight.

“Come on, Juno,” he says, gently pushing the wolf off him. “Let’s head home.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rita makes a discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> Rita finding out about werewolf Juno and just being rlly cool about it. She likes hangin out with wolf juno

Juno barely has a chance to register the darkness of his closet before the door opens.

“Good morning, love.” Something happened last night. Juno can see it in Peter’s eyes, like he just heard the most amazing joke and he’s been waiting to share it. Juno, being the most likely subject of that joke, is in no hurry to hear the news. But his boyfriend is perfectly happy to bide his time. “How does breakfast sound?”

Juno manages a weary smile. His transformations are easier now than they used to be, but they still take a lot out of him. In the time it takes Peter to make him a second omelette, he’s already scarfed down the first. The third omelette, though, is smothered in cheese. That can’t be right. Peter’s not exactly a fan of the stuff, not like–

There’s a knock at the door. 

“Could you get that, Juno?” Peter’s got that look on his face again, like he’s waiting for a punchline. 

Oh god. “Peter? What happened?”

The knocking gets louder. “Could you?”

With nothing short of dread, Juno opens the door. He isn’t surprised to see Rita on the other side, not entirely.

“Mista Steel,” she declares, loud enough to wake half the building, and she jabs a finger at his chest. “You lied to me!” 

It doesn’t take a detective to figure out what she’s talking about, not when she’s wearing yesterday’s rumpled clothes and enough black dog hair to line a fur coat. He doesn’t hesitate, just grabs her by the shoulders and pulls her inside before she can spill his secret to the neighbors.

In the kitchen, Peter is grinning while he tips Rita’s omelette onto a plate, the bastard.

“You let her in?” Juno demands. 

“Of course I did,” he says. “She was distraught.” 

Juno frowns. “Did something happen?”

“I got in a fight with Frannie,” Rita says. “But that ain’t important right now. You’ve been lyin’ to me! All these years I’ve known you, and it’s all been a lie!”

“I have not–”

“Oh yeah?” She jabs her finger at his chest again. “Remember when you had me put the digital locks on that closet of yours? And I said ‘what, are you a werewolf or something?’, and you were all ‘of course not, don’t be stupid’. Or that time I was tellin’ you about that movie with the wolfman, and you got all sensitive, and I asked if you were a wolflady, and you told me that stuff only happens in movies and they’re not real? Or all those times I invited you to midnight movie marathons during the full moons, and you kept saying no, and when I said–”

“Okay, I get it,” Juno mutters. “It was private, okay?”

“And then I come here and find out you’ve been a puppy all this time and _you’ve been holding out on me?_ ”

“Dammit, Rita, I’m thirty-nine. I’m not a puppy.”

She fixes him with a stare that could cut iron. “Mista Steel, all dogs are puppies.”

“I’m technically not even a dog–”

“All. Dogs. Are. Puppies.” 

He can tell that this isn’t a fight he’s going to win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how Peter remarked that Rita was really good at keeping the werewolfism a secret?
> 
> About that...


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Juno and Peter go out to solve a mystery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> So does werewolf!Juno ever try to solve cases in wolf form? Seems like a better sense of smell might be useful trying to find clues.

“Is this the Juno Steel Detective Agency?” asks a frantic man who looks a few hyperventilated breaths away from fainting outright. 

“…no,” Peter says slowly, wedging himself into the crack in the door to keep a certain wet-nosed someone from bolting out. “This is Juno Steel’s apartment.”

“Oh, thank Hera,” the man says, ignoring the inconvenient half of that sentence. “Are you Detective Steel?”

“Also no. I’m his partner.”

“Then you can help me!”

“Not that kind of partner, actually.” Well, some of the time. But the stranger at the door shows no sign of caring, let alone asking for clarification. There seems to be quite a good deal of selective hearing going on, as a matter of fact. It’s enough to make him wonder how this man managed to track Juno down in the first place. “How did you get in this building?”

“Never mind that. I have a case for you.”

“Then you can speak to Juno’s secretary in the morning. Goodbye.”

“No!” The would-be client shoves his foot in the door before it can slam shut. “You must come now!”

Peter fixes the man with a long, even stare as he weighs his options. On the one hand, this is a pushy stranger who knows their home address and won’t take no for an answer. Habit and instinct both hiss for him to stab the bastard before he can make their lives difficult. And he might do it, except there’s no telling how Juno might react to that. It isn’t as though he can explain the situation or his reasoning, not until Juno turns back into his human self. If he disposes of the body quickly and cleanly, he might manage to avoid an awkward meeting with the landlord or the police– but could he even pull that off without Juno getting excited and drawing unwanted attention to them? 

Best not to risk it.

“It’s the middle of the night,” he says between clenched teeth.

“I’m in terrible danger,” the man tells him. “It’s a matter of life and death, detective! You must come right away.”

Peter has half a mind to inform the imbecile that the actual detective is at his feet, trying to nose his way past Peter’s legs and through the door. Even if he did, he’s not sure the other man would listen. Still, Peter keeps his mouth shut, just in case the man actually decides to pay attention. 

It’s a wise decision, because the next words out of the man’s mouth are “I’ll past double your usual rate. Triple!”

“Triple, you say?”

“Please. I’m desperate!”

Peter looks down at Juno, who stops trying to escape the apartment long enough to wag his tail. Juno is rather smart for a dog, but his mind is simpler than it usually is. The nuances of language or economics will be beyond him, though that nose might come in handy. And Peter _is_ about due to take Juno for his walk…

“Very well,” Peter says. “I’ll see what I can do. Exactly what seems to be the matter?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The answer is no: Juno isn't actually Scooby Doo, and he doesn't have the training to be an effective sniffer dog.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we take a step back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> So how would the whole being-a-werewolf aspect work out for Juno when they're in Miasma's control? If Juno was already exhausted from the experiments, then I can't imagine transforming would end too well...
> 
> If you check back with Chapter 1, you know that it actually worked out a lot better than anticipated. But that doesn't mean Juno wasn't freaking out about it every instant before that.

“You wouldn’t happen to know what day it is, would you?” Juno asks. “See, there’s this book I need to return to the library…”

The masked assistants barely acknowledge him.

It’s been days. He knows that much, but he couldn’t possibly guess how many. He knows he’s lost consciousness thirty-three times since he was brought down here– it’ll be thirty-four soon, judging by the pounding in his skull. But how many days is that?

The tests seem to go on forever, but he doesn’t think he’s ever held out more than six hours or so. Add to that maybe four hours of unconsciousness, another hour for a meal and bathroom breaks… that accounts for eleven, maybe twelve hours? Maybe? Or six hours, or twenty-seven, or…

Juno never had much of a problem with math in school, but you can only account for so many variables, and his head hurts enough without trying to do advanced algebra. He knows it’s somewhere between two and six weeks.

God, let it only be two.

Because at the six-week mark, he hits the end of his cycle. Both of Mars’ moons will be full, and he’ll turn into a killing machine.

And sure, maybe he wouldn’t be too bent out of shape to be locked in a room with Miasma and her masked assistants when it happens. But if he’s not?

There aren’t a whole lot of options for him right now. Either he transforms when he’s with Miasma, or he escapes, or…

He glances back at Nureyev, still sleeping off his last round with Miasma.

Juno hasn’t fallen asleep naturally since that night in the Oasis. Every time he tries to rest, all he can think about is waking up with the taste of blood in his mouth, and Nureyev’s big bright eyes glazed and staring and…

He shudders.

He’s thought about telling Nureyev the truth, letting him know exactly how much danger he’s really in, so that if Juno starts to change he can… what? Call for help? Strangle Juno before he can hurt him? If Nureyev kills him, there’s no reason for Miasma to keep him around. Telling him won’t do anything but terrorize Nureyev and drive away the one comfort Juno has left in this goddamn hellhole.

Juno tries to tell himself that isn’t as selfish as it feels.

* * *

When Juno wakes up, Nureyev is gone. He can still remember words, half-spoken and half-thought: 

_I’ll be back. I promise you I won’t disappear._

If Juno had been coherent enough to form words, he would have told him to take his sweet time.

For the first time in his life, he isn’t dreading the coming change. The moons are waxing, and when they’re full, he’s going to rip Miasma to shreds.


End file.
